


From Cold to Fire

by 64907



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: He will always try, he realizes, even if he’ll always fall short.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in the time of the dorito's birthday last year, but I thought scheherazade was a more fitting gift so this rotted away in my folder of completed stuff, unedited and unposted. I promised myself I'd never post this since 2016 SJ was a bucket of happiness, but I'm also the most untrustworthy person I know so here we are.
> 
> Unbeta'd and part of my Google drive cleanup. It hurts but it ends happily. I know that if they talked about shit this would be 5000 words fewer, but here's me not really caring.
> 
> In this fic, ANOS run a grocery together in a little town that is far from Tokyo. Kind of like the town in Kiiroi Namida.

He just shut off the TV when his phone beeps.  
  
_I'm right outside,_ the text reads. The number is unfamiliar but he has a feeling he knows who it is.  
  
He holds his breath, one finger scrolling.  
  
_Open up._  
  
\--  
  
The doorbell doesn't ring because Jun would never press it after sending a text like that. Sho tries to mask his surprise by stepping aside to let Jun in without another word.  
  
Sho offers him slippers and tea. Jun accepts the first and refuses the second, choosing to sit on Sho's couch like he has been here before and it hasn't been years. He carefully removes his scarf and coat, deposits them on the space beside him so Sho has no choice but to sit somewhere else.  
  
He should ask, but Jun hates questions. It's nearly midnight and it's just after summer, and Sho can only wait for so long.  
  
"I'll get some blankets," he offers, not waiting for a reply.  
  
He doesn't meet Jun's eyes when he returns.  
  
"Shouldn't you be asking what I'm doing here?" Jun asks. He sounds amused, his eyes boring into Sho's form, following him around.  
  
Sho keeps quiet for a while. Instead he says, "You still have my number."  
  
Jun doesn't blink. "Though I thought you would've changed it by now."  
  
There's something in Jun's eyes that Sho hasn't seen for so long. He doesn't know how to take it, if he can take it still, after all these years.  
  
Sho wants to ask why now and what does Jun want, but he chooses to say good night.  
  
Jun doesn't say it back.  
  
\--  
  
It's Nino who finds out first.  
  
If Nino is upset with Sho letting Jun crash in his place without asking questions, he doesn't voice it. He only says, "Good, then at least now you have a cook. You need to cut down on all that takeout ramen." He pats Sho’s tummy lightly, affectionately. “Although that coming from me is unbelievable in itself.”  
  
Sho laughs. He asked Nino to meet him in the soba stand after work, and he's slightly grateful he picked soba instead of ramen. He doesn't miss Nino's contemplative expression though. "I don't think he's staying that long."  
  
Nino shrugs. Sho knows what Nino's thinking at present because it's what he thought of the moment he opened his door the night before.  
  
Jun never stays for long.  
  
"You think he's here for work?" is what Nino goes for, and Sho entertains the idea despite knowing better.  
  
"Maybe." He chugs his beer, lets out a pleased sigh after he felt it rush down his throat. "I didn't ask," he admits.  
  
Nino only has this knowing look on his face.  
  
Sho wonders if that is wrong, but he has had enough of Jun's evasive answers and methods.  
  
He's had enough of trying.  
  
"Does he know that we're all still here?" Nino asks. He lights a cigarette and offers Sho the pack, but Sho declines.  
  
"I think so." Sho looks out, past the smoke, towards the night without really seeing.  
  
He laughs. "I actually have no idea what he's thinking."  
  
"None of us do," Nino says. It makes Sho feel better, knowing that there are three other people in this city who has no idea what's going on in Jun's mind.  
  
None of them have Jun sleeping on their couches though. Sho focuses at the lights overhead, trying not to think too much about Jun in the same living space as him. It would be a while before he could get used to the idea of it again.  
  
He left a copy of the house keys on the kitchen counter this morning, just before he left for work. Jun was still sleeping, and Sho knew from experience that it's better if he let Jun wake up on his own.  
  
"Leader would be happy to see him," Nino says, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Aiba-shi too."  
  
Sho smiles back, appreciates Nino all the more. "I'll tell him."  
  
Nino nods and lets out a puff of nicotine.  
  
Sho doesn't say anything anymore, and Nino doesn't, too.  
  
\--  
  
Jun is standing in front of his opened fridge when he returns.  
  
"You ran out of milk," is how Jun welcomes him.  
  
Sho nods, shrugging off his coat. "I'll make sure to get some tomorrow."  
  
Jun is wearing his glasses, and behind them, he looks even more unreachable despite being so close. Sho walks past him without another word, and he feels Jun's gaze at the back of his head as he washes his hands in the sink.  
  
"How are they?"  
  
Sho stiffens, but he answers anyway. "I only talked to Nino."  
  
"How is Nino?" Jun amends. He sounds genuinely interested.  
  
"He says Aiba-chan and Satoshi-kun would be happy to see you.”  
  
Sho hears nothing after and he proceeds to wipe his hands. He's a little tired from running errands in the shop today. He's looking forward to lying down soon.  
  
"And you?" Jun suddenly says, breaking the silence when Sho's almost at his bedroom door. "Are you happy to see me?"  
  
Sho lets out a laugh, and it sounds bitter and forced to his own ears. It's been years.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Jun nods like he understands. Sho believes Jun doesn't. How can he? He's not the one being left behind every time.  
  
Sho doesn't wait for him to say anything and shuts his bedroom door instead.  
  
It takes a while before he manages to find rest.  
  
\--  
  
Aiba is passing a crate of apples to him when they talk about it. Sho figures Nino was the one who told them because he certainly didn't.  
  
"Is he still there?" Aiba asks. He wipes away the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. They’re restocking the grocery, and it’s up to Sho to do the inventory. Aiba’s never been good with numbers, something Nino likes to tease him about.  
  
"For now," Sho answers honestly.  
  
Aiba sighs. "I'd offer to pay you guys a visit, but he doesn't like surprise reunions."  
  
Sho appreciates the sentiment though. Nino may understand most things, but what Aiba gets completely is that Sho has a lot of things he wants to say but can't, so he offers to be there as a buffer in case some words slip out of Sho's mouth.  
  
"I did tell him you guys would be happy to see him," Sho informs. He carries another crate and stacks it on top of the others before pulling out a tiny notebook from his back pocket. He ticks off the apples in the list.  
  
"You are happy too," Aiba says, more perceptive than most people give him credit for. "Aren't you?"  
  
Better Aiba than Jun himself. "In a way, yes."  
  
Sho is. But what lingers on his mind is the reality that Jun will leave soon, and being happy about Jun staying for now is pointless when he's just going to leave again.  
  
"There's a midnight sale going on at the seaside market tonight," Aiba tells him instead. His smile helps lighten up whatever Sho's carrying in him. "They have your favorite, Sho-chan. Abalone. You in?"  
  
He says yes, and Aiba high-fives him.  
  
\--  
  
Sho arrives home carrying containers of fresh shellfish. It's a little late, and he's honestly surprised to see that Jun's still awake.  
  
Instead of saying he's home, Sho announces that he forgot to get milk.  
  
He sets the abalone on the table and grabs a pair of leftover takeout chopsticks. Jun refuses his offer of food so he proceeds to eat alone, trying not to mind the rerun of a baseball game that Jun is watching.  
  
The volume of the TV gets turned down and Sho hears the scrape of the chair against the floor. He looks up right into Jun's eyes.  
  
"Don't you think it's time for you to ask whatever it is you've been putting off since you opened that door for me?"  
  
Sho puts down his chopsticks and drinks his can of beer. He doesn't know where to begin.  
  
"Why are you here?" he asks, instead of why now.  
  
Jun leans back on the chair, and the lighting overhead adds more shadows to his face, making him look more intimidating.  
  
"My birthday's coming up," Jun answers.  
  
Sho didn't expect that. He laughs, soft and sad.  
  
"Do you need anything?" instead of what do you want from me.  
  
Jun answers his question with another: "Why do you think I need something from you?"  
  
Because they've done this multiple times and it always ends in the same way. Instead Sho says, "You're here," hoping it's enough.  
  
"Can't I swing by just because I want to see you?"  
  
Something stings inside Sho and he can only look at Jun, at the cruelty Jun lay before them.  
  
After all this time? That's what he has to say? The abalone in front of him no longer looks enticing but he resumes eating, finding that he can't say anything. He's not Jun.  
  
“I’ve seen Berlin.” Jun’s voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, reminding Sho that whenever he leaves, he goes to places Sho has never seen before. “And before that, Melbourne. It’s a little cold there. I’ve seen the Northern Lights too. They’re prettier than any photos I’ve seen on the internet and on guidebooks.”  
  
Sho sighs. “Why are you telling me this?”  
  
“Because you weren’t there,” Jun says smoothly, honestly. Sho knows that Jun only lies about the things that embarrasses him, but he tells himself that Jun often does it because that’s easier to accept. “I’ve been to Seville, to Vegas, to Bordeaux. Venice. Even Santorini. You’d love Santorini.”  
  
“I like it here,” Sho says, keeping his eyes fixed on the space between them.  
  
“I know.”  
  
When Sho lifts his head, Jun is already standing up, retreating back to the couch.  
  
The TV volume goes up, and Sho finishes his late dinner.  
  
\--  
  
It’s been a few days since Jun sent him a text. Sho believes he’s going to leave soon, but he doesn’t, and that makes Sho question things.  
  
Jun is manning his washing machine when Sho finally asks.  
  
“How long will you be staying?” this time, he doesn’t add.  
  
Jun has this almost amused smile on his face. “Are you tired of me already?”  
  
Sho’s asking because he wants to be ready. Despite the familiarity of waking up to an empty couch, it’s growing increasingly difficult to let Jun do as he pleases. Sho has not seen him for months, even years. Then he comes back like he hasn’t been anywhere else, but everything’s changed about him.  
  
Jun is still Jun, but he’s always a different Jun whenever he stands on Sho’s doorstep.  
  
“I just want to know,” Sho says. There are many things he can’t admit.  
  
Jun’s eyes narrow. “You gave me a key.”  
  
Sho doesn’t understand where he’s going with this, but what’s done is done. “I did.”  
  
“Do you want it back when I leave?” he asks, and that makes Sho smile sadly as he focuses on the soft sounds emitted by his washing machine.  
  
When.  
  
“Not really,” Sho answers, hands shoved in his pockets. He’s in jeans while Jun’s in his baggy sweats, the tip of his toes peeking out of the edges of the fabric. He only ever allows himself to look as sloppy as this when he’s with Sho. “You can keep it.”  
  
He exchanges one look with Jun before he moves to leave, only that Jun stops him with an invite.  
  
“Let’s go out tonight.”  
  
Sho frowns, but Jun is nodding. “Tonight. With Nino, Aiba-chan, and Leader.”  
  
Sho is surprised at the unusual willingness but jumps at the opportunity. “Okay. I’ll tell them.”  
  
He’s halfway into typing out a group message on LINE when he realizes that Jun never answered his question.  
  
\--  
  
It’s cooler now compared to the night Jun showed up on his doorstep, but there’s warm food coming and Sho is the type who easily sweats.  
  
Aiba has his arm around Jun, his face immensely pleased and shining. Nino’s watching them with a bored expression, but his eyes are dancing every time Aiba makes a joke that causes Jun’s eyebrow to twitch.  
  
Sho looks at Ohno, who raises his mug of beer in a toast.  
  
“So tell us what you do in your travels,” Nino says, picking up a piece of takoyaki with his fingers and stuffing it inside his mouth. He wipes the sauce that stuck to his fingers on Aiba’s sleeve. “Exactly how long do you stay in one place?”  
  
“And how do you cope?” Aiba follows, not giving Jun time to answer. “Can you speak Chinese now, Matsujun? What about Mongolian?”  
  
Nino whacks Aiba at the back of the head, and Sho laughs along with Ohno. “Does he look like he can speak Mongolian?”  
  
“You don’t know where he’s been to! Mongolia is close to China!” Aiba is rubbing at the spot Nino’s palm made contact with, a slight wince on his face. “So?”  
  
“I can’t speak Chinese,” Jun clarifies, drinking his beer. “Or Mongolian. I actually haven’t been to China or anywhere close.”  
  
“That eager to get as far from Japan as possible, huh?” Nino asks. Sho catches Nino’s knowing gaze for a moment, and it’s Sho who immediately turns away. “So? What brings you back, Jun-kun?”  
  
There’s a cocky smile on Jun’s face. “I thought I’d have a look around.”  
  
Nino peers at him under his lashes. He’s had a few drinks, but Sho’s certain he’s not inebriated when he says the next words. “Really now? After almost three years of absence? You’re lucky Sho-chan doesn’t change his number. Or his email address.”  
  
“Pass me that takoyaki,” Ohno suddenly says, unusually loud. Sho’s grateful for the intervention, and he feels Ohno squeeze his knee in reassurance under the table. “And the sauce too, please.”  
  
It’s Nino who hands the takoyaki to Ohno, lips upturned in a knowing smile.  
  
“I’ve been to Europe,” Jun relays, piquing Aiba’s interest immediately. “I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower.”  
  
Aiba is excitedly asking him questions, almost stumbling over his words in his haste to say them all. “What about the Louvre? Of course you would go to the Louvre. Tell me about Mona Lisa!”  
  
Jun does, telling them about places he only mentioned in passing to Sho. He describes them in a way he always did: detailed, rich, easy to imagine, to grasp. He talks about freelance artists trying to sell portraits outside the Notre Dame, of cobblestones under his feet as he walked the streets of London, brimming with life despite the lateness of the hour.  
  
He keeps talking about these places Sho has never stepped foot on, further highlighting that it’s been nearly three years and he has done so much, seen so much, changed so much. With every account Sho feels how long their time had passed, that Jun is a different person and they all are, too, despite remaining in the same place and maintaining the grocery while Jun goes off and sees the world.  
  
“There’s so much to see,” Jun is saying, eyes filled with excitement. It occurs to Sho that this is the Jun he knows: the Jun who never hesitates to leave once he feels like he has to.  
  
“What brings you back then?” Ohno asks, the rim of his glass resting on his lips. He’s tipsy and his eyes are half-lidded. His weight is mostly against Sho, but he continues, “Why are you back, Matsujun, if there’s so much to see?”  
  
Sho wraps his arm around Ohno’s shoulders, tries to make him comfortable. He’d fall asleep any moment, Sho believes.  
  
Jun shrugs—the usual dismissal he goes for. “I guess I just missed you guys.”  
  
When Sho looks up, Jun is staring right at him.  
  
\--  
  
“Do you think he’s been with anyone in the last two, almost three years?” Nino says, straightforward as ever. He’s behind the cash register and Sho is checking the potatoes in a nearby basket, finding the ones that nobody would probably want. He could get them for less.  
  
“Probably,” Sho says truthfully. It’s been so long, why wouldn’t Jun be with anyone?  
  
“Something like what you had with Kyoko-chan?” Nino has his head tilted to the side.  
  
Sho’s about to open his mouth when someone behind him speaks. “Who’s Kyoko-chan?”  
  
“Ah, leaving the Sakurai apartment to check up on your friends, are you?” Nino greets, oblivious to Sho freezing. “I thought you were content with spending your days napping on Sho-chan’s couch.”  
  
“He doesn’t have mentaiko and I forgot to tell him to get some so here I am,” Jun says, but there’s an edge to his voice that Sho chooses to ignore.  
  
Another customer takes Nino’s attention away, an old lady looking for a specific kind of pineapple. Sho is left alone with Jun, and he proceeds with his checks despite his heart hammering.  
  
“Was she pretty?” Jun asks, too low for anybody else to hear.  
  
Sho remembers Kyoko, her sweet smile and expressive eyes. “She was.”  
  
Jun hums. “Past tense, Sakurai? You let her go?”  
  
“We still see each other,” Sho says before he can help it. He’s still friends with Kyoko, sometimes goes to karaoke with her and Ohno. Sho kissed her once, but that was it.  
  
Jun is smiling when Sho stands up and faces him, but his eyes say something different. He hands Sho the mentaiko, and Sho diligently moves to the counter to man the register.  
  
“We need eggs,” Jun tells him, and Sho focuses on the ‘we’. “I forgot to get that.”  
  
Sho punches in the eggs and wipes his hands on his apron. “I’ll get them.”  
  
He comes back to Jun leaning gracefully against the counter, all long limbs and trendy clothes. He stands out in the grocer, looking too different for someone from around here.  
  
“Come home early tonight,” Jun says, elbows locked as he leans forward when Sho’s back on the register and is placing Jun’s purchases in a paper bag. Aiba always insisted on saving the environment, and since last year, they tried to cut back on the usage of plastic. “Clock in early. I’ll make dinner.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Sho tells him, but Jun knows him too well. Food, more than anything, is enough to make him say yes.  
  
Sho hands him the paper bag and inhales sharply when Jun grasps his wrist instead, thumb stroking his now rushing pulse. “I don’t, you’re right. But I want to.”  
  
Jun withdraws, takes the bag from him. “I’ll see you for dinner.”  
  
“Okay,” Sho says, hand curled into a fist.  
  
Jun leaves, but not before returning Nino’s salute. Sho stands there, watching as Jun’s form becomes smaller and turns around a corner, his heart pounding and wrist burning.  
  
\--  
  
Sho will never get used to the sight of Jun working in his kitchen, an apron tied around his slim waist as he works with precision, with practiced ease.  
  
Sho doesn’t offer to help in any way because Jun will refuse. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he can help with anything. Jun is the most independent person he knows, despite being the one currently living in somebody else’s apartment.  
  
Jun makes pasta, and Sho is happy to find out that that, at least, has not changed. Italian has always been Jun’s specialty, and Sho’s been trying to find unchanging things about him ever since he showed up. He has changed in many ways, appearances included, but there are cracks that Sho is the only one allowed to see.  
  
That pleases him, somewhat.  
  
The last time Jun cooked a meal for him had been more than two years ago, but Sho can still recall what it was because it was so simple. It was the only time Jun had made something that wasn’t foreign.  
  
It was miso soup, and that was also the day he last saw Jun.  
  
In a way, Sho’s afraid that Jun fixing him a decent meal right now means he has to go. Again.  
  
“I learned this in Turin,” Jun is telling him, then he says the name of the dish that Sho can’t possibly emulate. “I may not exactly get how it’s done, but you wouldn’t really know.”  
  
Sho will eat anything Jun makes, something he’s sure Jun knows. “I’m sure I’ll like it.”  
  
“You like anything,” Jun says, the corners of his lips upturned in a smile. Sho can see the tiny dot under his bottom lip, so dark against pale skin.  
  
Sho watches Jun’s hands as they work, how his wrist twists as he moves the frying pan accordingly, how his long fingers sprinkle pepper and basil when he’s almost done. He remembers Jun’s touch from the grocery earlier, and shakes his head in an attempt to stop the other memories from resurfacing.  
  
There’s a plate of pasta with a very Italian name Sho can’t pronounce right in front of where he sits on a stool in the kitchen counter. Jun’s chin is plopped on his knuckles, his eyes watching Sho as he hands over a fork.  
  
Jun deliberately brushes his fingers against his, and Sho ignores the feeling of his stomach knotting at the contact. “I thought this was dinner.”  
  
“It is.” Jun’s eyes are on him, and Sho feels a little self-conscious at the scrutiny.  
  
Sho twirls a bit of pasta with his fork in an effort to direct his attention elsewhere. “You’re not eating though. How is this dinner?”  
  
Jun’s hand closes over his before he can put the fork in his mouth, and Sho can only stare as Jun leans forward and directs the fork to his own mouth, eating it for himself.  
  
“Now it’s dinner,” Jun says as he chews. He shoots the plate before them a pointed look, a wordless gesture for Sho to eat.  
  
Sho wants to ask why he’s doing this, but Jun looks like he’s not in the mood for that talk. Sho’s too tired to try, too exhausted to make the effort. He has done enough of that, and it’s never enough to keep Jun around.  
  
“Get your own fork,” Sho retorts weakly, but it makes Jun laugh. It’s the first time Jun laughed since he came back, and Sho hates how he missed the sound of it, how familiar he found it to be.  
  
Jun stands, grabs a fork for himself which he traps between his teeth as he takes two wine glasses from the kitchen cabinet. He sets the glasses on the counter and retrieves a bottle of wine Sho is sure he never purchased for himself.  
  
Jun lets the wine breathe for a moment as he leans across Sho, sampling his own pasta without another word.  
  
“This is really good,” Sho praises in between a mouthful that makes Jun snicker at him.  
  
“Of course it is. I promised dinner, didn’t I? It had to be good.”  
  
It’s Sho who ends up pouring the wine. Its almost spicy aroma permeates in the apartment, and Sho knows it’s not just any wine. Probably something Jun has tasted before in his travels. It’s likely, he figures, since Jun has made dinner he obviously learned in another country.  
  
He’s in between sips of wine when Jun says, “Talk to me.”  
  
He’s startled, but he blinks the shock away quickly. “What do you want me to say?”  
  
“Anything,” Jun says, but he means something else. He wants Sho to ask the questions, to say what’s been on his mind days ago, what has been bugging him for almost three years.  
  
Sho sighs and puts his glass down. “It’s been a while since I talked to you.” He wants to be honest. “I really don’t know what to say.”  
  
“I met someone,” Jun says quickly, as if informing him couldn’t wait any longer. “In my travels. We met in Venice and saw the rest of it together. Then we went to Turin and learned how to make agnolotti together.”  
  
“Why are you telling me this?” Sho asks, keeping his voice neutral even when something twinges inside him. Jun’s not tied to him, never has been, but that doesn’t stop the sting.  
  
Jun’s looking at him with his wine glass over his mouth, his gaze unyielding. It cuts through Sho and he feels vulnerable.  
  
“Turin was my last stop,” Jun tells him, and Sho can’t help himself from laughing.  
  
“Did you come back just to tell me all of this? That you found someone while you were away?” He shoots Jun a sad smile. He’s just so tired. The weariness sinks in fully tonight, and he realizes he doesn’t want to play this game with Jun anymore. He’s tired of waiting—for Jun, for Jun to leave. It’s a cycle, and he wants an out. “Did you come back to gloat?”  
  
“Maybe,” Jun says, stubborn as ever, and Sho shuts his eyes.  
  
He finishes his wine in one gulp. “I hope,” he says as honestly as he can, “that you’re satisfied when you finally saw how I am.”  
  
He moves to stand, but Jun stops him with a hand around his wrist. It burns and his instinct is to pull away, but Jun tugs him close. “Don’t run away,” Jun warns, his voice hard.  
  
Sho laughs at him. “You’re the one doing that every time.”  
  
He knows why Jun leaves. He has always known, but it’s only now that he has accepted it, treated it as a constant thing.  
  
Jun leaves when things grow too familiar, too comfortable. He runs because it makes him feel caged, boxed. Trapped. And that scares him, so he leaves, goes somewhere far that Sho has no idea where until he comes back again.  
  
Leaving is one thing. The coming back is what Sho doesn’t get.  
  
He doesn’t understand why Jun is here again, why Jun is holding him like he has no intention of letting go. His grip is as fierce as him, Sho notes, all hardness and strength. The years have changed Jun, made him someone Sho only knows by name.  
  
Jun’s grip doesn’t relent and Sho’s shoulders slump. He gives up. “What do you want from me?”  
  
Sho thinks he has given everything Jun could possibly want from him. He believes that’s not enough so Jun is here, asking for something more, something else. Maybe Jun’s looking for someone else instead, someone he knew from his travels.  
  
That thought makes him pull back with enough strength that he manages to wrench his wrist away from Jun’s hold. “I can’t be them,” he declares. “I can’t be whoever you want me to be. I’m not them. I won’t be them for you.”  
  
Sho moves away from the kitchen counter to take his wine glass to the sink. He just wants to sleep. His appetite has vanished, and he desperately wishes this is something he can forget in the morning despite the impossibility of it happening.  
  
“I came back for you,” Jun tells him when he’s on his way to his bedroom.  
  
Sho tenses, but he recovers immediately. “You didn’t have to.”  
  
There’s a sad smile on Jun’s face when he turns, something that reaches his eyes. “But here I am anyway.”  
  
“For now,” Sho finishes for him, and Jun just stares at him, expression unreadable, until Sho chooses to turn around and walk away.  
  
\--  
  
The following night, just after they closed the grocery, Jun arrives, carrying one of Sho’s more fashionable coats with him.  
  
“We’re going to the movies,” Jun says, helping him put on the coat. Nino already went home ahead of everybody else, insisting he has a boss level he needs to win. Aiba is changing back into his casual clothes in the backroom, and only Ohno is around to witness what’s happening.  
  
“Now?” Sho asks awkwardly, the events of the previous night still vivid in his mind.  
  
Jun’s eyebrow quirks up, and that’s something Sho’s familiar with. “Yes. Now. I already bought tickets. I missed local films.”  
  
Sho’s accustomed to being dragged around according to Jun’s whims but he still flushes, knowing that Ohno’s seeing all of this. “I still have to check on tomorrow’s deliveries.”  
  
Jun clicks his tongue, his ringed hands on the lapels of Sho’s coat. They’re standing closer than what’s normal, but Jun doesn’t seem to mind. “You can take care of that tomorrow. We need to go. Now, Sho-kun.”  
  
“I’ll go check it before I lock up,” Ohno says, and Sho sees Jun smile in thanks at Ohno for the offer. “Have fun.”  
  
“That’s my job though,” Sho tries, but Ohno waves him off.  
  
“It’s anyone’s job. There are four of us working here. Go.” Ohno shoots him a brief grin.  
  
Jun tugs him by his sleeve and he only manages a hasty goodbye to Ohno before they’re standing outside. In a way, this reminds Sho of their shared youth. Jun would drag him around in movie houses in their teenage years, would spend nights till early mornings to talk about anything and everything with him.  
  
But they’re older now, and Sho doesn’t understand what Jun is doing.  
  
“You didn’t invite the others?” Sho asks, trying to keep up with Jun’s pace. Jun has this certain bounce in his steps; he’s always been livelier in the evenings.  
  
“Why should I? Nino has a game he has to beat.”  
  
That can’t be the only reason. Sho doesn’t want to be happy with the implication that Jun wants to watch a movie with only the two of them, but he is because of the two of them, it’s him who hardly changed. Jun will always have a certain hold on him, the extent of which is something that still surprises Sho despite telling himself over and over that he’s tired to keep up with Jun.  
  
He will always try, he realizes, even if he’ll always fall short.  
  
They watch the movie mostly in silence, with Jun occasionally interrupting to call out an inaccuracy that Sho noticed but grew tired of pointing out. When they were young, it was always him who had something to say, something to complain about.  
  
Instead he focuses on the film, sees it as an extension of Jun’s passions. Jun has always loved stories, enamored with how they are delivered. Every moment they spend together is like seeing a glimpse of a story that Jun wants to tell.  
  
Sho wonders why Jun is letting him into his world again if he’s only going to shut him out eventually.  
  
“You didn’t like it,” Jun says once they’re out of the theater and are heading back.  
  
Sho wishes he’d stop doing that. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”  
  
If Jun is surprised with his answer, he didn’t show it. “What happened to the Sakurai-kun who’d always tell me that the movie is stupid? That the plot is predictable and that we just wasted money?”  
  
He changed, Sho wants to say. But he can’t change for you. Every day with Jun is taking a toll on him, that when Jun finally disappears, he’s going to have a hard time readjusting back. That’s the part Jun doesn’t know because he never stays.  
  
He chooses to say nothing and resumes walking.  
  
Jun tugs him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer. They’re a block away from Sho’s apartment and the streets are empty, but Sho still flushes at the proximity.  
  
Sho grabs both of Jun’s arms to stop him in case he’s thinking of doing what Sho doesn’t want him to do. “We should head back.”  
  
“It’s only a little over midnight,” Jun says, and his voice is lower, his eyes focused.  
  
“You don’t have to do this,” Sho begs. His grip is as weak as he feels. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” It’s the last thing he wants.  
  
Jun’s eyes widen, and it’s the first time Sho sees surprise on his face since his return. “Is that what you think this is?” He sounds angry now. “That I invited you tonight out of pity?”  
  
Sho doesn’t know what to think. Jun is Jun, but he’s not the Jun Sho was used to. He doesn’t know how to adapt. “I’m tired,” he admits quietly, against his wishes. It’s late and he’s had enough. “I don’t want to guess what’s on your mind anymore.”  
  
“If you’re so tired of me, why did you come with me tonight?” Jun’s voice is icy, full of rage that he’s barely trying to suppress. His grip on Sho doesn’t give, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Did I look so lonely to you that you had to force yourself to be with me?”  
  
That’s not it at all, and Sho can only look at him, can only wonder why he doesn’t understand.  
  
“What is it, Sho-kun?” Jun asks, so volatile and uncontainable. It makes sense to Sho that Jun’s anger manifests as such; Jun himself never stuck in one place. Nothing could ever contain him.  
  
He takes Jun’s hands in his, tries to pull them away from his person. But Jun’s grip is strong and it takes a while of struggling before Sho sighs and simply settles for resting his palms on Jun’s clenched fists.  
  
“It’s been three years now,” Sho tells him, remembering the date. Three years ago, Jun left after serving him miso soup. Maybe Jun’s agenda was to make him remember.  
  
Jun’s face darkens, clearly not liking Sho’s answer. “Is the idea of being with me so horrible that it’s a burden every time?” He’s laying one cruelty after another, and Sho can only take so much.  
  
“It’s a burden,” he says, feeling his chest lighten up when Jun isn’t able to mask the hurt on his face. “You keep doing these things. You keep spending time with me.”  
  
“And that’s a problem?” Jun asks, eyes wide and seething. “How is spending time with you now that I’m back a problem?”  
  
“Because you keep leaving every time,” Sho answers. Jun is shocked at his admission, and he doesn’t know how a bark of laughter manages to escape from his mouth. “And it’s always me who has to pick up whatever you left every time you do.”  
  
Jun’s hold on him relaxes, and he can only keep his eyes shut. After a while, he says, “We should head back. It’s late.”  
  
“You never asked me to stay,” Jun tells him quietly.  
  
Sho steps back, allows Jun’s hands to fall to his sides. He needs space between them, now more than ever. “No.”  
  
Jun is confused, and Sho feels the tiny pings of satisfaction at the sight. “Why not?”  
  
“Because I know better.”  
  
Sho makes his way back to the apartment, not waiting for Jun for once.  
  
\--  
  
They have a few days of silence. Sho would wake up and find Jun curled up in the couch, back turned to him, and he’d proceed to take a shower and get ready for work.  
  
When Sho comes back from the grocery, Jun is watching whatever Sho’s VCR recorded for the day. His answers to Sho’s questions are clipped, devoid of emotion, and he doesn’t even spare Sho a glance.  
  
Sho wonders why he puts up with it.  
  
The cold shoulder treatment isn’t something he deserved, but why Jun continues to give it to him is something he doesn’t understand.  
  
He decides to talk about it one night.  
  
When Jun stubbornly refuses to look at him no matter what he tries to say, Sho reaches out and turns off the TV.  
  
That sets Jun off, but he doesn’t say a word. He merely clicks his tongue and moves to the couch since he’d been sitting on the living room floor for a while.  
  
“Jun,” Sho tries, again to no avail. Jun’s on his phone now, and Sho wonders if Jun will snap if he tries to grab the device away from his hands.  
  
I don’t deserve this, Sho thinks, and decides to voice that thought out.  
  
Jun’s thumbs halt on the screen of his phone and suddenly the words just spill out from Sho’s mouth. Maybe he’d been bottling them up for too long. Maybe Jun is just too much tonight. Maybe he’s had enough. “I don’t deserve this from you. If you don’t want to talk, fine, that’s okay. I can live with that. I haven’t talked to you for years anyway. But stop pretending that you’re in someplace where I don’t exist because I live here. This is my place. I am here.”  
  
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Jun asks, chin raised high in his direction. There’s a fire in his eyes that matches every bit of his personality. “Pretending that you’re nonexistent?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Sho says, patience disappearing. “Maybe you’re pretending you’re with somebody else instead of here with me! I don’t know what you’re thinking, what you’re doing, why you’re doing what you’re doing, but I don’t deserve it. Not from you. Not from anyone.”  
  
He looks down and takes a few deep breaths. “Do you hate me that much,” Sho begins, knowing that he finally has Jun’s attention, “that you came back just to show me how well you’ve been on your own?”  
  
The corners of his eyes sting and he laughs, feeling utterly pathetic.  
  
There’s a flutter of movement in his periphery and he looks up just in time for Jun to take his face in his hands. Jun’s ring is a little cold against Sho’s cheek and he immediately steps back, but Jun holds on, follows him, keeps him in place.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jun says, and then he kisses Sho.  
  
Sho pushes him away quickly, shaking his head, begging without words. Don’t do this, he wants to say. Stop pitying me. I don’t want a sympathy fuck.  
  
But Jun doesn’t let him go, instead pushes and keeps pushing until Sho’s back hits the nearest wall and he winces in pain. Jun kisses him again, hard, like he wants everything that Sho is at the moment. They push and pull, until Sho gives up the fight, surrenders everything he has.  
  
There are hands on his shirt, fingers grabbing fabric and pulling, moving hastily and with purpose. “I came back for you,” Jun whispers against his mouth, body pressing against his, creating more warmth. He sounds like he’s admitting something he didn’t want to ever say. Sho can’t move, can’t think, can’t say a thing. “I’m here. I’m here.”  
  
He’s leaving, Sho’s mind is screaming. It’s obvious in the way Jun touches him, how Jun divests him of his shirt and presses his mouth in hollows and planes of newly exposed skin, how he leaves kisses in places like he never kissed them before.  
  
“You’re going to leave again,” Sho manages to say, hating how anguished he sounds. Jun’s fingers pause at his belt buckle, his mouth hovering close to Sho’s pulse.  
  
Jun doesn’t answer, instead kisses him slowly, like he’s here to stay and Sho just didn’t call out a truth. His hands are now on bare skin, reaching down, down, until one finds Sho and grips, hard and tight.  
  
Sho can’t help bucking back, can’t stop himself from holding on. It’s been so long, too long since it had been Jun. There were others, but now there’s Jun and Sho knows, it’ll be a long time before he can have Jun like this again.  
  
Jun kisses him as his hand moves, provides every bit of friction Sho needs. “Jun, Jun,” he’s saying between their joined mouths, wondering if this is real and how long it will last this time.  
  
It never lasts for long.  
  
Jun pulls away abruptly, grabbing Sho’s wrist and guiding him back to the couch. Sho can only follow, trying to remember the last time they did this. He can only stand at the edge of the couch as Jun rids himself of his clothing—jeans, shirt, both of which are Sho’s—, and then his hands are back.  
  
“Come here,” Jun says, eyes dark and full of intent.  
  
Sho obeys.  
  
\--  
  
It’s a rather tight fit on the couch but they manage. Jun’s thick thighs bracket Sho’s as Sho lets out a breath, burning hot against Jun’s damp neck. Jun’s nails are buried on his skin as he moves, seeking more heat, more friction, more of Jun, just more.  
  
He listens to the sounds Jun is making, focuses on how it mingles with his thundering heartbeat. Sweat drops from his temple and catches on to Jun’s jaw. Sho presses his lips against it, tasting salt and Jun as his body seeks release, over and over, turning more desperate with each passing second. It’s too hot in this room, but Jun is holding on to him like Sho’s the one who’s going to leave by the end.  
  
“I lied,” Jun breathes, just as Sho begins to lose his pace. Sho swears at the tightness gripping him, the heat enveloping him, and Jun continues despite being out of breath, “I lied. There was no one else.”  
  
It takes more than a beat, but then he manages to look at Jun, appreciate the sight of him: cheeks flushed, eyes nearly black, chest heaving. Sho tries to slow down, wants to preserve the moment for a while longer, but Jun locks his ankles around his waist and pulls him back in.  
  
“It’s only you,” Jun says, strained and ending in a groan. The admission makes Sho burn. He no longer holds back, and amidst Jun’s cries of pleasure interspersed with his name he manages to hear it: “It’s only ever been you.”  
  
It’s suddenly too much and Sho loses himself, fingers marking Jun’s skin as he arches, buries himself deep and forgets, even just for a moment.  
  
\--  
  
There’s a delivery of tangerines today and Aiba is helping him inspect the boxes when Jun enters from the backdoor. Ohno must’ve let him in.  
  
Sho blushes; he still remembers the night before, how they moved to his bed and how he left Jun there, sound asleep while he headed to work.  
  
“Ah, Matsujun!” Aiba greets, jovial as ever. “What brings you here?” He wipes his hands on his apron before placing them on his hips, and Jun smiles at him.  
  
“Nino was telling me about a bar,” Jun says, eyes flitting to Sho’s before turning back to Aiba. “And he insists I invite everyone this time because I’ve been around long enough.”  
  
Aiba beams as he wraps an arm around Jun’s jacketed shoulders. Underneath the Letterman jacket is a shirt that’s Sho’s—Sho recognizes it because of how tight-fitting it is on Jun. He didn’t know when Jun began wearing his clothes, but that probably started when Jun began doing his laundry as well.  
  
“As long as you pay,” Aiba says, grin never disappearing from his face. “Knowing Nino, it’s got to be a cheap bar.”  
  
“He has my thanks,” Jun says, and he and Aiba both laugh. “That’s a yes then, Masaki?”  
  
“Absolutely.” Aiba squeezes his shoulder once before going back to stand beside Sho. “You’re coming right, Sho-chan?”  
  
Jun’s looking at him as if daring him to say otherwise and Sho shrugs. “After I close up, I’ll follow.” It’s up to him to close up tonight; he still owes Ohno for that movie night.  
  
Aiba beams and Jun simply nods, inclining his head in farewell. “I’ll see you there, then.”  
  
The day passes without a hitch and soon, Sho’s in the bar with everybody else. Ohno and Aiba are on the dance floor, and despite Nino’s insistence that the drinks are cheap, the colorful one with an umbrella that’s in front of Sho looks nothing like it.  
  
“Drink up, Sho-yan,” Nino tells him, hiding his grin behind his mug of beer.  
  
Sho pokes the tiny umbrella with his forefinger. “You’re only saying that because you’re not paying.”  
  
Nino laughs at that, pointing at Jun who’s sitting at the edge of the booth. There’s a lot of space between them, and as far as Sho knows, Jun hasn’t looked at him since he arrived.  
  
Sho wonders if he should have followed them here.  
  
“J’s a little prickly because I managed to make him agree about paying,” Nino says, looking pleased with himself. He leans closer to Sho, voice dropping in a whisper as he adds, “After I made him believe that this place is cheap, of course.”  
  
“You are the worst,” Sho says, not meaning it. He smiles just as Nino laughs and slams a hand down the table. Nino has always been a lightweight, and it’s clear to Sho that he’s already a little inebriated despite not having much.  
  
Underneath the smoke and the blurred laser lights, Sho manages to see Aiba and Ohno approaching their booth. He freezes when he sees someone with them.  
  
“Sho-chan, look who’s here!” Aiba says, ushering their guest.  
  
Beside him, Nino straightens. “It’s been a while, Kyoko-chan. Who are you with?”  
  
“Friends from university,” Kyoko says before she returns the greetings, and Sho only nods back.  
  
Ohno invites her to sit with them for a while and she accepts. Jun stands to make way for her, and she ends up seated between Sho and Aiba, who elbowed Jun so Jun would remain where he was sitting a while ago.  
  
“I haven’t seen in you a while, prince,” Kyoko says, turning to him, and Sho lets out an embarrassed laugh. She still calls him that.  
  
“Sho-chan’s just a little preoccupied lately,” Nino answers for him, and Sho feels Nino pat his thigh under the table in a reassuring gesture.  
  
Sho’s eyes inevitably fall on Jun, who’s watching the exchange with half his face hidden behind a mug of beer. His eyes are shining, and like always, Sho can’t tell what he’s thinking.  
  
The rest of the night passes with Kyoko eventually excusing herself to rejoin her friends, but not before calling Sho a prince once more. There’s nothing between them other than a past encounter, not even enough to constitute something concrete. The look she gave Sho before she left assured him that they were the same in that.  
  
Jun doesn’t talk to him on the way back to his place, and when he’s locking up while Jun’s removing his coat, he decides to say it.  
  
“We kissed once. Nothing came out of it.”  
  
Jun turns to look at him, expression betraying nothing. Under the dim light of Sho’s genkan, he’s hard to read like always. A stranger in a familiar place. “Are you defending yourself to me?”  
  
“No.” Sho shakes his head. “I’m just telling you there’s nothing to it. She calls me prince because Nino and I once danced to Prince’s song in karaoke.”  
  
Jun crowds him, and he finds his back firmly planted against the door. Jun’s breath smells like the bar they just came from. “I’m not asking you to defend yourself, Sakurai. I don’t care what you did with her.”  
  
Jun moves away, but Sho grabs the sleeve of his shirt. “I know that.” There’s anger in Jun, something he can’t suppress very well. Maybe it’s the alcohol that made him less controlled, less impenetrable. “But you’re angry, and I wanted you to know that there’s nothing.”  
  
“I’m not angry,” Jun snaps, shrugging off his grip. He moves in strides, and Sho tails behind him, watches how his feelings manifest. He would never see Jun like this again.  
  
He lingers behind Jun, listens to Jun taking deep breaths. When Sho reaches out, Jun turns to him, breathing heavily. “What do you want? What do you want from me?” He sounds frustrated—edgy.  
  
When his hand flies out, Sho’s expecting it. He manages to catch both of Jun’s fists before they can make contact, and Jun struggles, but Sho keeps his grip tight. “What do you want?” he keeps asking, getting angrier by the second.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Sho says, remembering. It’s way past midnight. “I’m sorry you met her tonight of all nights.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about her,” Jun seethes, like he didn’t hear Sho’s greeting. “You can do whatever you want. When I leave, you can continue where you left off.”  
  
Sho feels as if Jun just punched him in the gut. “Are you leaving?”  
  
“Yes,” Jun says, not breaking eye contact.  
  
Sho nods to himself. “So you just wanted to celebrate your birthday with us?”  
  
“It’s not about my birthday,” Jun snaps, wrenching himself free from Sho’s grasp. “It was never about my birthday. That’s not why I’m here.”  
  
“Why are you here then? If you’re going to leave, why come back?” It’s out, the one thing Sho wanted to know for years now. “Why do you keep coming back when you’re only going to go away?”  
  
Jun laughs, and the sound of it surprises Sho. “I told you why. I keep telling you why. How many times do you need me to say it for you to believe it?”  
  
_I came back for you._  
  
Sho takes the initiative this time, holding Jun’s face in his hands and not letting go when Jun attempts to step back. He plants a quick but hard kiss on Jun’s mouth, presses soft kisses all over his face.  
  
Jun’s hand is curled to a fist and he’s repeatedly pounding on Sho’s chest. “I have no right,” he says, and he sounds frustrated. He doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence, but Sho understands.  
  
Jun hates what he feels, the tiniest spark of jealousy that he can’t hide because he’s had a few drinks. Jun never liked being so transparent.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sho says, meaning it. He kisses Jun once more, and this time, Jun responds, hands worming around Sho’s waist to pull him closer. Jun tastes like smoke and alcohol combined, like anger and vulnerability rolled into something fragile, something that will blow over any moment.  
  
When Jun pushes, Sho gives. Jun’s touch is fierce and wanting, littering marks that Sho will worry about the following morning, but for now he relishes the feeling of Jun’s fingers on him. Sho scratches and it draws out a hiss, followed by a hot swipe of Jun’s tongue on his pulse.  
  
“Sho,” Jun is saying repeatedly, a plea that gradually sounds broken because of Sho’s deafening heartbeat ringing in his ears. He’s trapped under Jun’s weight, caged in Jun’s toned arms, and he moves with Jun, meets every push eagerly. “Sho, Sho.”  
  
Sho smells and tastes sweat when he buries his face at the crook of Jun’s neck. He clings to Jun’s strong shoulders, letting out tiny cries of pleasure each time their bodies come together. There’s Jun’s hand snaking between them, taking hold, and Sho arches, a breathless moan escaping from his lips.  
  
Take what you need, Sho wants to say. When they’re like this, when Jun’s surrendering and has his walls down, there’s nothing Sho wants to hide from him. If Jun came back for him, Sho wants to say there’s no one else he’d wait for. If Jun is going to keep coming back, no matter how much it hurts to let him go every time, Sho will do just that.  
  
Letting Jun go now, though, is not possible. Sho has his nails embedded on skin, and he can feel Jun’s teeth on his jaw. Each ragged breath Jun exhales accompanies a thrust that makes Sho burn and crave, hands still trying to pull Jun closer even with the lack of distance between them.  
  
Jun reaches down and takes one of Sho’s hands in his, their fingers lacing together. It acts as leverage, something for Sho to hold on to as they meet in the middle, growing desperate each time. He’s close, and with the way Jun’s rhythm is faltering, he knows Jun is, too.  
  
“Take it,” Sho hisses between clenched teeth, and Jun’s eyes snap open. Jun is flushed and shaking, so close to giving in, but he halts.  
  
Sho doesn’t want him to leave.  
  
“Only if you want me to,” Jun breathes, just as Sho bucks back.  
  
“I do,” Sho says.  
  
Jun’s mouth parts, eyes fluttering shut. His hips move in abandon, and Sho just clings, nails scratching the expanse of Jun’s back as Jun takes Sho with him, the two of them tumbling over the edge together.  
  
They lay there, tangled and unmoving for a long time.  
  
\--  
  
Nino eyes the mark on Sho’s collarbone with an amused expression, and Sho shifts his shirt to hide it, feeling self-conscious.  
  
“He’s still there?” Nino asks.  
  
“I think so,” Sho says. He left Jun in bed, albeit a few minutes later than he should have because Jun tried to tug him back when he moved to leave.  
  
A quiet sigh, only perceptible because the grocery is devoid of people, and Nino gives him a look. “Sho-chan.” It’s almost admonishing.  
  
“I know,” Sho mutters. The bruises and hickeys he’s sporting feel like they’re burning imprints on his skin, incriminating evidences that it’s all bound to end in the same way. Jun leaves marks when he can’t stay, lets the brand made by his fingertips and lips and teeth remain when he can never do the same. “He’s leaving.”  
  
“Did he say when?”  
  
“He never does. He just...goes.”  
  
“You think it’s soon,” Nino concludes. He’s not wrong. Jun might not be there anymore when Sho comes home tonight.  
  
Sho smiles, picks up a tray of eggs to arrange on the shelf. “It’s bound to happen anyway.”  
  
“Did he at least tell you why he’s back?” Nino’s standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest. More than anyone else, Nino is the one who looks out for Sho as much as he looks out for Jun. “Why he keeps coming back?”  
  
Sho nods. “He did.”  
  
“But you’re not enough to make him stick around?”  
  
“No,” Sho answers, finding it easy to say. It’s the truth. “I’ll never ask him to do that. Stay, I mean.”  
  
“Maybe you should,” Nino says. Usually, he’s not this pushy, but Sho understands where he’s coming from. Nino is the first one Sho calls whenever Jun’s gone, off to some part of the world he didn’t bother to inform Sho about.  
  
“He’ll never stay,” Sho says. “He’ll never allowed himself to be tied down, and I can’t ask that from him. Besides, Nino, we’re not…”  
  
Nino’s eyebrow is quirked when Sho turns around. “Not what?” He casts a pointed look at Sho’s collarbone, hidden under the material of his shirt.  
  
Sho laughs, soft and sad. “I don’t know what we are.” They can’t be together if Jun is gone most of the time. Jun’s not his, but Sho wishes he can say the same for himself. It’s different when it’s with Jun. Maybe that’s why they only meet in flashes, get fleeting moments in the short time they’re together. He might simply be a distraction that Jun indulges himself in from time to time.  
  
His conversation with Nino lingers at the back of his mind, and when he comes home, he finds all the lights are out.  
  
Calling for Jun yields nothing, and Sho braces himself for the worst.  
  
He pushes open his bedroom door and finds Jun standing at the edge of the bed, an opened duffel bag on the floor beside his feet.  
  
“Are you leaving?” Sho asks, remaining by the doorway.  
  
Jun doesn’t look at him. “I’ve been here long enough.”  
  
Sho bites his bottom lip and recalls what Nino told him. “If I ask you to stay, would you?”  
  
A beat, and Jun stands unmoving still.  
  
Sho holds his breath.  
  
“No,” Jun says, and he’s being honest. Sho prefers that more than any kind of lie Jun is capable of saying. “I can’t.”  
  
Sho shuts his eyes and it’s there, it’s back.  
  
This is how he feels whenever it’s time for Jun to go: empty. There’s no pain, no sting or any form of hurt. Just nothing, and sometimes, Sho wonders if that’s because Jun takes a part of Sho with him each time he leaves.  
  
Sho hopes not. He doesn’t know how many pieces he has left to give, how many parts are there left for Jun to take each time.  
  
“But you can come with me,” Jun mutters, and when Sho looks at him, their eyes meet. He can’t see Jun much; it’s dark. But there’s something unfamiliar in Jun’s tone, like he’s scared of Sho saying no and trying his best to hide it.  
  
Sho blinks, considers, then shakes his head. “I have a job here. I...I never left before. What would I do?”  
  
“You can come with me,” Jun repeats, and there’s insistence in the way he utters each syllable. He moves in quick strides, standing in Sho’s space within moments. He’s still in Sho’s clothes, and Sho can see all the marks he littered on Jun’s skin the night before. “Come with me, then we’ll figure it out.”  
  
“But Nino, Aiba-chan, and Satoshi-kun...what about them?” Sho’s beginning to imagine the possibility of what Jun is offering, and he’s startled by the willingness that washes over him.  
  
“What about them? They’ll always be here,” Jun says, and he’s close enough to put a hand over Sho’s clavicle, tracing the purpling patch of skin he sucked on repeatedly the previous night. “When we come back, we’ll come back for them. Tell them stories, describe what we saw.” Jun gives him a small smile, revealing the tiny mark under his bottom lip that Sho loves kissing so much. “We can learn Mongolian for Aiba-chan.”  
  
That gets Sho to smile, and soon, he lets out tiny huffs of laughter that cause his shoulders to shake. “Are you serious?”  
  
“If you ask me to stay, I won’t,” Jun says, hands firmly planted on Sho’s chest. “I can’t. But if you come with me, maybe I can try.”  
  
Sho looks up at Jun, confused. “Try? We won’t have a place to stay if we leave.”  
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Jun promises, and Sho finds himself trusting Jun’s words. “If you come with me, we can figure it out.”  
  
“We’ll find a way,” Sho says tentatively, heart pounding at the sight of Jun’s smile broadening. He nods. “Okay. But we’ll leave only in the morning. I want to say goodbye first.”  
  
“In the morning,” Jun agrees, right over his mouth.  
  
When Sho bridges the gap, he can feel Jun’s smile, knows it’s mirrored on his own. Jun’s kiss is hesitant and soft, but Sho meets it with certainty and determination. They’ll figure it out. They’ll perhaps find a home somewhere along the way, but if they don’t, Sho’s sure there’s a place for them to go back to.  
  
Sho wonders if he’ll dream of Notre Dame and of riverboats, of places he can only imagine for now but will likely see soon. He voices the thought out loud, when he thinks Jun is asleep.  
  
“Maybe,” Jun says against his hair, his voice groggy and half-muffled. His arm tightens around Sho’s form. “We’ll go see them all. We’ll go wherever you want.”  
  
Sho believes him.  
  
They fall asleep to the sound of traffic, to the occasional reflections of headlights coloring the ceiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Pablo Neruda](http://www.khabaryalnews.com/poetry/poetrydetail/pablo-neruda/i-do-not-love-you-except-because-i-love-you-poem-by-pablo-neruda). The Civil Wars' Poison & Wine was also put on loop (iirc) when I worked on this.


End file.
